


The Robb’d that Smiles

by Humanities_Handbag



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Being okay with thieves, Bets, Bog you dork, Fruit Thieves, Make Outs, Marianne you are a sneaky Princess, sneaky, sneaky make outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanities_Handbag/pseuds/Humanities_Handbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The robb’d that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.”  </p><p>Othello</p><p>In Which Marianne is Hungry, a Fairy Steals from a Goblin and Everyone Wins</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Robb’d that Smiles

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble about sneaky, sultry thieves and dorky Kings.

The Bog King of the Dark Forest awoke from his own mind when the fighting move of an oncoming war was made by the enemy. His eyes snapped up, senses on high. They were close…

… so very close.

And they would not get past the border. Not this time.

The papers in his hands slapped to the table with a resounding  _phwp_  before claws shot out across the space, successfully trapping the daemon beneath a cage of nail and bone.

The war was avoided.

A King had won once again.

“ _What the hell, Bog! I just wanted a freaking berry!_ ”

“No. They’re mine.” He grabbed the plate she’d been sliding towards her and drew it back to him out of her reach. “If you wish to eat, Princess, then go and find food. The kitchens are more than open territory.”

“But I don’t want to eat. I want  _a berry_. A single  _berry_. It’s  _pointless_  to even go that far for something. Now can you just-“

He moved it farther away. She glared. He smirked. Then, just to drive the sword in deeper, he plucked one darkened, tart globe from the platter. “ _Bog_.” He decided to twist the sword. No matter how cruel, some enemies only learned through the act of suffering. He popped the fruit into his mouth and bit down fangs with a wild display of dominance.

“Mmm…” he hummed.

“You suck.”

“I sense hostility, Tough Girl. Could your hunger pangs finally be doing you in?”

“Oh go to hell.”

He barked a laugh, grabbing another berry, biting it in half. “You’re a picture of elegance, truly. Go get your own.”

“I don’t  _want_  my own. I want  _yours_.”

“Well, you can’t have mine.” He shuffled his papers together, going back to scanning the first few lines that he’d left behind. “They’re the same as everything else.”

“No. They aren’t.” She grabbed her own pile of papers, huffing quietly with each flip of parchment. “And last time I checked,  _you_  begged for  _my_ assistance going through  _your_  workload. And I, being the darling light of your life,  _agreed_.”

Bog snorted, grabbing another piece of fruit with a lofty cluck of his tongue. “I don’t quite recall begging,  _Oh Darling Light of My Life_. I believe that I _mentioned_  my schedule to you yesterday during a sparring session-“

“ _Which I won_.”

“And you volunteered your time. I simply agreed to the help. Which was most appreciated, believe me, up until just a few moments ago.”

“In what way has it been diminished!”

He looked up, his brow hooded. “You’re joking, right?” She cocked her head. “ _You_  tried to steal my food!”

“I didn’t try to  _steal_  anything. I tried to  _take_  it. Last time I checked, one part of being in a healthy and stable relationship is giving me at least  _half_  of the snacks. It’s basically  _law_.”

“When have you  _ever_  known me to simply  _give up things_  without a fight.” He gave the papers a light shake, relaxing back into his work. “I didn’t do it with your sister, and I’m not going to do it now. So get back to work, and if you truly are wasting away over there might I suggest you go and,  _oh_ ,  _I don’t know_ , learn to hunt or something. It’s about time you did that anyway.”

“Fairies don’t hunt.” Marianne flatly shot back through starched lips. “We _gather_.”

“Lot of good that’s doing you-  _ow_!” She smirked, her boot quickly moving from where it had jutted out and successfully beaned his knee, avoiding being hit back with a clawed foot. “Those are fighting terms you’re standing on,  _Tough Girl_.”

She snorted. “Oh please, you’d  _know_  if I was fighting. That was merely the punishment to a crime well deserved.” Ruefully she shook her fist. “And there’s more where that came from.”

“You really are quite the diplomat.”

“I try.” She moved to take a piece of fruit. He slapped at her hand. “Ow!”

“Punishment fitting the crime.”

“Jerk!”

“The pot’s calling the kettle black.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Gladly. Now do us a favor, love, and finish those papers. I’d rather be done with them  _before_  all the Kingdom rots to pieces and then  _how will you ever_ get your fruit then.” He stifled a chuckle through her glare, turning back.

For a moment there was silence, and he was just beginning to lose himself in the thrum of papers twitching against rough hands when-

“You know… I bet I could still steal a berry.”

Bog looked up, twitching a brow to the sky. “Oh  _really_.”

“Yup.”

“And how on earth would you ever achieve that.”

“Because, Almighty Bog King, I  _always_  find a way around the problem.” Her fingers tapped readily against the table, and his eyes twitched towards them, watching their movement for potential thieving attacks. “You see, your problem is that you seem to forget that I  _fought_  for my sister, and I  _won_.”

“It was a draw, last I remember.”

“Nuh uh. It was a draw after the  _spar_. But I won the entire game  _after_  the spar.” She pursed her lips. “Though, really, by the way I’m thinking about it you kind of won too. So we both won.” She shrugged. “Still, I’m the only one who remembers the tactic. So…”

“So  _what_?”

“So, all I’m saying is that if I really wanted to I could still get what I wanted and more.” She sat back, grabbing her stack of documents with a casual shrug. “I’m just not doing it. So consider yourself lucky.”

Bog stared at her from across the table, huge brown eyes moving from line to line without care. He squinted. “You’re bluffing.” She shrugged again, giving an infuriatingly easy hum. “You’re bluffing!”

“No. I’m not. Now get back to work.”

“Oh screw the work!” He pointed at her from a devilishly lit face, features going sharp and ridged once more under the ministrations of shadows. _“You’re bluffing_!”

Marianne smirked, glancing over the array of scrawl clutched in long fingers, blinking innocently across the length of space. Fangs glinted at her under the dim light, scales screwed up to resemble a Bog King of snarling nostalgia. And she couldn’t help it. She nearly fell forward against the table, her laughter moving out in long, joyous peals. “Oh  _gods_  Bog you’re such a  _dork_!”

“I am not!”

“ _Yeah! You are!_ ” She wiped at her eyes, trills and chirps still pushing their way from lungs abused with the happy vibrations of her guffaws. “Oh  _gods_ … I swear, your  _face_! You just can’t let this go, can you! That I could beat you!”

He opened his mouth to retort before the full meaning of her statement hit him hard. His jaw went slack before snapping shut, and he was left moping, arms crossed across a scaled chest. “You’re  _awful_.”

“And you’re a  _villain_  to the end it would seem.”

“Yes, well, right now you’re worse.” She laughed again. “And you couldn’t beat me!”

“ _Yes_  sweetheart, I really could. Now get back to-“

“No! No, I’m not going back to the blasted papers until you prove it.”

Her entire form snapped into the defensive in a moments notice, and he recognized the spark in her eye with the fluency of a language he’d learned far too quickly to comprehend. “Alright.” She nodded. “Fine! I will!”

“Fine,” he sneered. “If you’re so  _sure_  that you could actually beat me at something so trivial-“

“And I can.”

“Then do your best  _Fairy_.”

“Fine  _Goblin_ , I will.”

And for a stretch of time the two of them stared at one another. The platter of fruit by his elbow, his nails began to click their way against sheen wood, her own eyes flitting towards it with a purpose. Something fluttered in the pool of gold, too quickly to catch, and he wondered about it briefly, doing his best to decipher - _what was she playing at?_ \- when she lunged forward.

He did the same, throwing his body up with a boisterous  _haha_! before curling round the object of their dispute. She fell forward, hand narrowly avoiding slapping his face while his own, claws retreating in so as not to hurt her, trapped her arm against the table with a  _thunk._

“Got you.”

“Uh huh.” She smirked, wiggling under his grip. “You sure did.”

He frowned, then shrugged, lifting enough to grab the largest berry he could, holding it between to deadly talons in front of her face. “Better luck next time.” And then he threw it into his mouth with a leer.

And then she was on him before he could even remove her from his grip, throwing her arm round his neck and pulling him flush against her. Papers scattered this way and that, her knees scraping across the surface as she scrambled atop the table to better face him, still sitting stunned on the bench, and let her hands fall round his face. And then she was everywhere. Her fingers against his spine sending tiny jolts and sparks across his wings, her lashes fluttering his cheek and her lips, soft, pure, all over his with a capturing force that nearly sent his eyes rolling back.

His nails dug into the wood around him just as hers, dull but oh so clever, moved quickly, cradling the back of his head, ticking along the shift in uneven terrain in scales, dragging sensuous trails across ever inch that she could find. And then her tongue flickered out, teasing against his lips, and everything became  _more_. He gasped along with her, breaths feeding one another air through the sudden need of the lack of any of it, and every taste around him was sunshine and honey. Her teeth sunk into his lip, nibbling and cruel and he moaned into it. His arms finally – _finally_ \- gained enough sense to move from where they’d been stagnate against the table. Nails, drawing out from the wood beneath them, no doubt leaving scars that his mother would kill him for later, he wound them round her, pulling her as close as he could, needing to feel every vicious tremble of her body through clothes and armor, tilting his head up to find purchase against her frantic pursuits, taller than him for once in her place on the table.

She giggled, breathy and warm, a victorious sort of sound that vibrated through him like a purr, fingers moving to stroke across his ear until he choked into their struggle. She gave one last movement in their battle for skin, tongue stroking across his, before she sat back and he fell against the bench and the two of them sat panting in the low light.

“Ugh…” said Bog with all the articulation of an ice sculpture sunbathing. “Uhhh….”

“Uh huh…” she throatily agreed, slumping down, catching her breath.

“Tha… tha’ was a just… reward for… for  _work_ …  _Tough Girl_ …” he huffed, the pink in his ears tingling happily, heat trilling through his face and neck. He tilted his neck up once more, his blue eyes huge, enamored, doing his best to control a head suddenly much to heavy for his body. “Tha-thank ye…”

And then Marianne smiled.

She  _smiled_.

And there was something so very wrong about that smile. His face fell. “Wha’?”

Leaning forward, Marianne opened her mouth.

Between her teeth lay a very much whole berry. 

“I win.” She said, before popping the skin with her teeth, tongue flicking out to swipe the spare juice from her swolen lips. “So there.” And with a few more chews she grabbed the plate and retreated with a few jaunty hums back to her side of the table, stooping to scoop up papers before continuing her work, doing her part to ignore the shocked Goblin sitting across from her, jaw to the floor, eyes bulging and masterfully managing to make a few spare grasping choking sounds while he was at it. When she chuckled down at the parchment he officially lost it.

Bog’s roar of defeat was fabled to be heard from miles round that day. Marianne would never speak of the brave tale of war. Though the Kitchen staff was very much confused when, after that fateful day, their King told them to limit the supply of berries because, as they did their best to understand through a few mumbled snarls, apparently the tactical methods of devouring were far more enjoyable and you simply couldn’t do that with an ever present supply.

And so it was from that day on.


End file.
